


We Danced

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Conversations in the Car, Episode: s05e05 The Post-Modern Prometheus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Mulder and Scully talk about the dance they shared.





	We Danced

“Did you, uhm, like it?” The mellow sounds of a 80s rock ballad oozing from the car radio accompany his question. Scully picked the station earlier, foregoing her usual taste in classical music. But Mulder’s thoughts are louder than any corny crooner could ever be. He’s staring straight ahead while he awaits her answer or any reaction at all. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“Did I like what?” She’s making him say it; spell it out word for word. The dance. The dance they shared mere hours ago. Mulder can still feel her warm hand in his, the way she looked at him when he extended the invitation. What, me? Her eyes seemed to ask him. As if there were anyone in the world he would rather dance with.

“Dancing. With me.” His eyes wander to the rear-view mirror in an attempt to look nonchalant. There hasn’t been another car for miles; he doubts there will be. But Mulder doesn’t want Scully to know how much the dance is still on his mind. How much he liked it. How he’s wanted to ask her to dance before. Not during a case, none of that.

The way he imagined it was a night out, maybe a Friday. They’d go to a bar, have a few drinks and dance. He should have known that it would be like this instead; a modern day Frankenstein case and a Cher impersonator on the way to prison. Normal is for other people, not Mulder and Scully. At least they got to dance. 

“Oh, sure.” Her curt answer stings and it’s not at all what he expected; though he feared it. He’s been trying to come up with the perfect way to ask her, to have this talk. Neither of them knows how to have a conversation. They talk all day, every day. But never about something like their feelings for each other. Granted, his “did you like it” is not the best line, he can give her that. Keeping quiet was eating at him, though. Now it’s out there, the question mocking him from the backset of the car.

“Why are you sighing?” Scully asks and he feels her eyes on him.

“I just- no reason. If I made you uncomfortable by asking you to dance, Scully, I apologize.”

“Whatever gave you that idea? I enjoyed it.”

“You really did?” She’s quiet and even though he promised himself not to, he turns to look at her – and what he sees surprises him. She’s biting her bottom lip, the one that’s curved into a soft, thoughtful smile. What on earth is she thinking about? Him, he hopes. Their dance. He tears his gaze away to concentrate on the road.

“I did, Mulder. I’m just wondering why you asked me.”

“Who else would I have asked?” There was no one in the room – in the world – he wanted to dance with but her. There never is. It’s only her and it’s been her for a while now. The way she fit against him proves him right. He can still feel how they moved together perfectly. They work so well together that this should not come as a surprise to him. But it’s a revelation.

“That’s not what I mean,” she says with a sigh of her own. “Why did you ask me? Why did you want to dance?” Mulder considers stopping the car to have this conversation in earnest. Why he thought he could talk to her without looking at her is beyond him now. He wondered how she’d react to his question and so far he’s baffled. The hint of sadness he detects in her voice makes it even worse. 

“The whole atmosphere, the song and I-,” he tries to explain. Badly. He knows it’s bad the moment the words tumble from his mouth.

“That’s what I thought.” There’s no mistake: she’s disappointed. In him. Mulder slows down the car and it comes to a stop at the side of the road. He turns to her, his expression serious.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Mulder, I want to go home.”

“Yeah, in a second. What do you mean by ‘that’s what I thought’?” There’s still so much adrenaline rushing through him from having the guts to ask her to dance at all. He saw her smile, have fun and he couldn’t stop himself. In the five years they’ve worked together, when has he ever seen her so carefree? He can’t recall. Tonight, though, he saw it. It was his moment – theirs – and he took it. 

“It’s like you said. It was the atmosphere. If it hadn’t been me there, you’d-”

“Hold on a moment there, Scully,” he raises his hand, asking her to stop. “You think I would have just, what? Ask any other woman because I just wanted to dance? How can you even think that? I wanted to dance with you.” As much as he tries to keep the hurt out of his voice, he knows he doesn’t succeed. It stings. Five years, side by side. All his courage for nothing. He’s 15 years old again, rejected by the only girl he likes.

“Ever since my cancer has gone into remission, you’ve pulled back. I didn’t think… that was something you wanted.” In true Scully fashion she looks everywhere but at him. She adjusts her seatbelt, checks the buttons on her coat and straightens her skirt. He waits for her to finish the ritual before he speaks.

“That’s not true, Scully.”

Anger flickers in her eyes. “Isn’t it? Remember the mothman case? I made a pass at you. You fled, Mulder.” They’re both blushing in light of her admission. That night Mulder knew what she was doing, what she was trying to do. And yes, he fled, because he was scared. Is scared. They’re so much better at dancing around the subject, he realizes. Dancing. Scully thinks the dance they shared doesn’t mean anything to him. That it was a spur of the moment thing, maybe even a pity move.

“Scully, I-”

“I just want to go home. Now.” Her expression leaves him no choice. The car sputters into action and he steers it back onto the road. They’re both quiet, but the silence is no longer comfortable. Some singer Mulder has never heard before laments about love and the song makes him feel sick. It’s Scully who turns it off, though, before he has a chance to do so himself. A new, much softer melody fills the car. Mulder’s legs twitch; this is the kind of song he wants to dance to with Scully.

He parks at the side of the road again and Scully turns to him, close to losing her temper. “Why are you stopping again? I said I’d-”

“Dance with me, Scully?” He offers her his hand and it’s awkward as they’re both sitting in a car, one of them wearing his heart on his sleeve, the other one looking ready to have it for breakfast. 

“I- what?”

“I want to dance with you. Here. Or anywhere. The reason I fled wasn’t because I didn’t want it. Or because I didn’t know what you were doing. I was scared, Scully. I’d almost lost you. I’m always almost losing you. I needed more time. I’m still… I’m still scared. Aren’t you scared?” He’s breathless, staring at her.

“But you asked me to dance.”

“Because I was so happy in that moment, Scully. You were smiling, laughing. I couldn’t let that chance pass me by. I wanted to dance with you. Only you. I wouldn’t trade that moment for anything.” He loses himself in the depth of her eyes, just like he did on the dance floor. He should have told her, then. Should have put his heart on the line. Should have kissed her. Should have… if only he had the words to explain how he felt, how he still feels. That joy. That love. Looking into her eyes he sees fear. Uncertainty, too. They’re mirroring his own emotions. 

“I really liked it, Mulder. I'm… I’m a bit scared, too,” she admits, “but maybe we could do it again some time?” He unbuckles his seat belt, ready to dance right here on this abandoned road in the middle of nowhere, but she puts her hand over his. The same electric spark he felt when she took his proffered hand, Walking in Memphis blasting around them, runs through him now.

“Not here.” But she’s smiling. “We could… go dancing? After work, one day.”

“Is this a date?” His voice threatens to fail him and Scully smiles softly at him.

“We could make it one.”

“Count me in. When?” Now she’s laughing.

“First of all you’re taking me home.” Seat belt back on he grins at her and starts the car. “Ask me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now.” Scully stays quiet, but puts her hand on his thigh. He understands; they’re not ready. Not just yet. Her hand remains on his leg, but grows slack soon and falls away. When he turns to her, her head has rolled to the side and she’s fast asleep. Mulder smiles. His mind fills with ideas about when to ask her, when to go and where. Christmas is coming up soon. There’s plenty of time.

Or so he thinks.

Soon, Scully leaves for San Diego, their goodbye full of smiles, full of unspoken promises. But by the time he hears from her again her voice is broken, heavy with emotions. There’s a little girl, she says. She’s just a little girl, Mulder. He goes to her, holds her hand through it all. It’s different.

There’s no more dancing.


End file.
